


Baby, Take It Home

by OhNylL



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Daddy Derek, Fluff, Gen, Kids, Robot Baby, School Project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1376926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNylL/pseuds/OhNylL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira slid up to Scott’s side and cooed at it, they were going to make cute babies someday, “What did you name it? I heard that’s like two bonus points on top of your finale grade.” </p>
<p>Stiles grinned, “Alex J. Murphy, Jr.” </p>
<p>Kira laughed, “Excellent.” </p>
<p>Scott blinked, “What’s so excellent?” Stiles sighed, his best friend was a lost caused. </p>
<p>Kira, at least, looked as scandalized as Stiles felt, “After Alex J. Murphy.” Scott shook his head, Kira sighed, “Robo-Cop?” When Scott still showed no sign of knowing what she was talking about, Kira took the doll from him, “You’ve lost the rights to hold Robo-Baby.”</p>
<p>--<br/>Or the one where Stiles has to watch a robotic baby for the weekend, as homework, and Derek gets attached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, Take It Home

Somehow they made it, well most of them made it, to their senior year of high school. Between late nights running and fighting the supernatural big-bad of the month they managed to sneak in enough time for school that they didn’t fail. 

It was still a gut wrenching feeling, even though they were nearly two months into their final year, seeing someone else using Allison’s locker, or the Missing sign of Erica still tacked to the bulletin board outside of the office. But they managed. The pack was tighter than ever, both in closeness and wound up. There wasn’t a hall or a classroom that didn’t have some sort of nightmare attached to it. It wasn’t as bad for Kira, who was probably the one keeping the rest of the teenagers sane, and it was envious to watch the rest of the student population go about their lives like nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Outside of Lydia writing backwards on the chalkboard, the dead body on the bus, Coach getting shot in the chest with an arrow, not to mention all of the nut-jobs that managed to sneak into the school...okay so they saw the human side of the supernatural shit-show that had become a select fews’ life. 

All of that aside, it was starting out as a pretty slow and calm year. After they (read Chris) had killed Kate (read shot her in the head with silver infused wolfsbane shotgun shell) again anyway. Once that had all blown over, the pack, or what was left of it, had been closer than ever before. They had developed a buddy system, no one was completely alone a hundred percent of the time. Even Chris and Peter started to spend more time together, since now they had something in common. They’d each killed Kate. Stiles likes to think it’s morbidly poetic –but he’d never say it out loud...again. 

School. School was currently their biggest problem, as it should be for all children between the ages of five and eighteen. Stiles had fallen back into his regular, pre-werewolf, routine of staying up late watching re-runs of cancelled television shows and sleeping well past his alarm, before rushing around and still making it to school five minutes before the first bell. The only days he secretly wished something bad would happen, were when his C block came first thing in the morning.

Why Stiles ever thought that Family Studies was going to be an easy elective, he didn’t know. Anymore. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was already a pretty amazing cook and knew his way around a sewing machine –a necessity born from having to repair multiple pairs of jeans and shirts in his junior and sophomore year. Thanks werewolves, and other supernatural bullshit. But this. This he did not sign up for.

“Are you really going to trust me with that thing?” He asked, eyeing the contraption in his teacher’s arms. 

Mrs. Greenberg, seriously who knew that Greenberg’s mom a) taught at the school and b) was a total babe for a woman in her forties, raised an eyebrow, “It’s a robot, Stiles, you can’t hurt it.”

“I could break it...I’ve heard stories of arms falling off, keys breaking inside, there was one that lost its head.” 

Mrs. Greenberg set the tiny robot in the car-seat and placed it on Stiles’ desk, lips pressed in a thin line of amusement, or annoyance –it was hard to tell, “Rest assured, Mr. Stilinski, that it would take a lot more than your clumsiness to break one of these.”

Like werewolf strength he thought with a sigh, “Can’t I just write a paper, like Lydia?”

“Are you also taking three collage prep courses, Stiles?” She crossed her arms over her chest, perfect manicured nails tapping against the fabric of her pinstripe blazer –and honest to god, Stiles does not know how Greenberg came out of this woman. Maybe his father was a drunken coke-whore...that would surely balance out the universe, “Because if you are, then yes, you can write a paper on childcare and early childhood development. Though seeing as you’re not, because I would have been informed, you, like the rest of the class, get to take the baby home over the weekend.”

“But I can’t take the stupid doll home over the weekend.” He let out an exasperated sigh as Mrs. Greenberg’s expression turned from amused to clearly annoyed,

“And why not, exactly?”

Because, even though things have been quiet lately, there’s always some kind of monster trying to kill me and it’s kind of hard to run away with a baby strapped to my chest! Is what Stiles wants to say, but instead he goes with the more human out, “My dad works a double on Friday and is pulling nights. He’ll want to sleep during the day and won’t be able to if that...thing is screaming every ten minutes.”

She. Rolls. Her. Eyes. “Let me put this way, Stiles, since you’re going to be late for your next class if I don’t end this now. Either you take the doll home for the weekend or you fail the class and don’t graduate because you’re an elective credit short.”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before he snaps it shut and growls, a habit that he’s picked up from hanging around werewolves, “Fine.” He packs up his bag and throws it over his shoulder, taking the car-seat by the handle, 

“Oh and Stiles,” she waits for him to stop in the doorway and look over, “Don’t bother trying to get your friend Danny to turn it off. The equipment is super sensitive any tampering what-so-ever, external or internal, will cause it to completely shut down. Automatic fail.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He had totally been planning on it.

The rest of his classes went by eerily quiet, from Robo-Baby anyway –his friends, his pack, were relentless in teasing him at lunch over it, 

“Well Stiles, looks like you’re officially Pack Mom now!” Scott had laughed, slapping Stiles on the back.

“Keep it up and you’ll be the first to babysit.”

“No can do, have a meeting with a group of Vetala tomorrow.”

“You’re going on a peace treaty mission without me?” Stiles whined, 

Isaac grinned, “Not you, your baby.” 

Stiles groaned, letting his head fall on the table, Kira reached over and ruffled his hair, “Don’t worry about it. I had to do the same project in Junior High, it’s not that bad.”  
Not that bad. Stiles was pretty sure it was going to be worse, then _that bad_. When the final bell of the day went off, and the doll still hadn’t made any noise, he went by the Family Studies room again,

“I think it’s already broken.” 

“It’s not broken, Stiles.” Mrs. Greenberg sighed as she pulled her coat on.

“But it hasn’t made a noise all day. Is it defective? Will that affect my grade?”

A sigh, she pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten under her breath –Stiles knew the motion, did it often himself, before she looked back up and gave him a tight lipped smile, “Stiles, the babies are on a timer so they wouldn’t disrupt your other classes. The first cry is scheduled to happen at four o’clock, and then it’s randomized from there. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you won’t have received one with colic.”

Stiles eyes widened, “You mean there’s a chance that this thing will never stop crying?”

“Not never, just more frequent.”

He groaned, and then caught sight of the time, “Good chat. But I don’t want to be on the road when this thing starts crying.”

“Good plan. Now, shoo.” She waved him out of the classroom and locked the door behind them, “I’ll see you and the baby on Monday.” She sashayed, because there was no other word to describe it, down the hall. Greenberg had to be adopted.

\---

Robo-Baby cried all of twice on Friday, not counting the obligatory I’m turning on now bitch cry that, even though Stiles was expecting, still scared the shit out of him when it happened. Twice wasn’t so bad, and Stiles let himself think that Kira had been right...and it wasn’t going to be all that bad.

\---

Kira is a lying liar who lies.

Ever since it woke him up at five-thirty, in the morning, it hasn’t stopped crying. Or at least that’s what it feels like and Stiles is on the verge of tears himself. He’s half way convinced himself that Mrs. Greenberg gave him a colicky baby on purpose. Because he argued and she’s horribly passive-aggressive. 

The phone rings twice before it’s answered and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, “Scott-“

“I told you Stiles, meeting with snake people, I can’t help with your baby problem...not until tonight anyway.”

“I hate you. Tell Isaac and Kira and Lydia and Derek and Peter and...especially Peter, that I hate all of them too.”

There’s a beat before, “Derek and Peter aren’t coming. Something about Talia accidently killing a previous Vetala leader and now they aren’t the biggest fans of the Hale family.”

Stiles snorts, “I bet it was really Peter, and the accident wasn’t so accidental.”

He can hear Scott roll his eyes, “Look, what I’m saying is that if you need help looking after the baby that badly, they’re available. And they will help.” Scott puts enough empathises in the last four words that Stiles comes to the conclusion that the two remaining Hale’s are in the same room, and Scott just semi-Alpha’d them into helping Stiles with his school project. Stiles also noticed how Scott didn’t mention, or even hint at, the fact that Stiles’ baby was a robot. Interesting. 

“Alright...if I still feel like throwing it in the garbage dispenser by noon, I’ll head over to the loft and force them to play uncle.”  
There are a few choked noises from the other line. Stiles holds back a grin. The other wolves are defiantly in the room, and they totally think it’s real. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Scott’s voice cracks, like he’s trying to keep a straight face and not let anything slide. Stiles doesn’t hate him...as much, anymore.

\---

Stiles doesn’t make it to noon. He barely makes it to eleven-thirty before he’s shoving everything in the diaper bag and setting the, finally quiet, Robo-Baby in the car-seat. Four cups of coffee into his morning, having already taken his Adderall, he hopes he can pawn the baby off on Derek or Peter for at least an hour’s nap. He sighs thinking about it. It feels nice.

He pulls into the parking lot outside the loft, slips in-between Derek’s Toyota and Peter’s Dodge, and shuts the engine off. Taking a minute to breath, he slips out of the Jeep and grabs the bag from the back. Of course he’s half way up the elevator when the damn thing starts crying again. And the key is in the bottom of the diaper bag.

“Look, just give me like...three more minutes and then I’ll tend to your every need, okay?” Stiles has come to accept that he’s finally snapped, again, probably for good, because he’s trying to negotiate with a computer simulated infant with colic. But it makes him feel a little better, because he knows that for every five minutes it stays crying he gets dinged a point for neglect. Added to the ten points he lost for letting its head go too far back when he was getting it dressed this morning.

When the door to the loft slides open, Derek is standing right there. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a tight line, but his eyes were slightly wide. Which threw off the whole expression and Stiles wasn’t sure what to make of it. Instead of dwelling on it, he hands Derek the diaper bag and walks over to the couch, sitting down before taking the baby out of the car-seat and starts going through the horrible routine. 

Diaper’s dry? Check.

Pat/rub the back? Check.

Bottle? Check.

Pretend to play with it? Check.

Did it stop crying? Of course not.

Stiles groans and looks around for Derek, spotting the werewolf hovering slightly with a soft yet pained expression. For a minute Stiles feels bad for coming over, the mechanical wail is torture enough on his human ears, he can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for the super hearing. 

He shifts the doll so that it’s cradled in one arm, head resting against his bicep so he doesn’t risk losing another ten points, and reaches out with his free hand for the diaper bag. 

He might lose an automatic two points every time he uses the key, but he doesn’t really care. 

Derek sets the bag down at Stiles feet and takes the robot, so Stiles can route through the bag with both hands,  
“Ah-haaaa...” He holds the key up victoriously but trails off as the room falls silent, “How did you...?” 

Derek just blinks, “It’s motion censored, isn’t it?”

“To a point, yeah.” Stiles eyes the werewolf as Derek just shrugs and keeps walking around. Robo-Baby remaining silent the entire time. Entire time only being a few minutes, but it feels like longer because the silence is beautiful.

Stiles isn’t aware that he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up to the sound of barked laughter, and nearly falls off the couch. With a yawn, he rubs his eyes and looks around for the source of the noise. Sitting on the spiral staircase is Peter, head thrown back, laughing as Derek leans against the desk in front of the window, still holding the doll and looking...unnervingly domestic and slightly protective,

“C’mon Derek, I just want to hold it.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “And possibly break it.” He says it light-heartedly, but even from his position of half off the couch, Stiles can see Derek’s grip tighten and stance shift to keep the doll out of Peter’s reach. Adorable.

“I won’t break it, I promise.”

Derek snorts. 

Peter sighs, “You know, I changed your diaper almost more than your parents did. I know how to handle a real baby, I’m pretty sure I can handle a fake one.”

“No.”

The baby starts crying. Derek reacts instantaneously and starts going through the check list, getting it to stop in record time. Peter starts laughing again. Stiles can’t take it anymore and pushes himself to his feet, shuffling over and making grabby hands for his school project,

“Are you two seriously fighting over Robo-Baby?”

Peter raises an eyebrow, “Robo-Baby?”

Stiles nods, finally prying the doll out of Derek’s hold, “Yeah, I thought it sounded cooler than Alex J. Murphy Jr.” He narrows his eyes at Derek, “What are you even?”

Derek folds his arms over his chest, eyes never leaving the doll, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you been Robo-Baby-Whispering the entire time I was asleep? How long did you even let me sleep?”

“You weren’t out that long, half hour at the most.” Derek sighed, like it physically pained him to have given up the doll.

“Okay, feeling less bad. But how did you get it to stop crying that quickly?”

“I...had a lot of younger cousins.”

“Six, younger cousins, to be exact.” Peter supplies, not all that helpfully, as the room falls quiet again and Stiles shifts his weight, eyes on the floor.

“Oh, well...thanks for letting me sleep. This whole single parent thing is a lot harder than it looks.”

“You’re not a single parent.” Derek says at the same time Peter says “And that’s my cue to leave,” and heads up the stairs. 

Stiles chuckles, “I know I’m not, not really. But for the sake of this weekend, I am.” 

Derek shakes his head, following Stiles back over to the couch –he really needs to get more furniture. Though he does have a working kitchen with a table big enough for the whole pack to eat at, and a coffee table that isn’t made out of wooden crates, so that’s a start. “What I mean, Stiles, is that you have the pack to help you.”

“Uh, not really? I mean, I have you and I kind of have Peter helping me out while the rest of the pack is on some top secret peace treaty signing mission with a bunch of real reptile non-Kanima creatures. Not fair.”

“Vetala aren’t that special.” Derek grumbles, leaning back into the couch.

“You...you’re just upset that Peter fucked things up between them and your family so you couldn’t go meet them too!”

Derek’s silence was all the answer Stiles needed. He grinned and pushed at Derek’s thigh with his foot, “Hey, if you had gone I’d be on my hundredth coffee by now and probably taken more Adderall than recommended. So cheer up Sourwolf, you’re doing a pretty awesome job as an uncle to Robo-Baby.”

“Uncle?” 

“Yeah, unless you don’t want to be?” Stiles shot out quickly, mentally kicking himself, “I mean, Scott and Isaac were pretty keen to the idea of being uncles to a robotic infant for forty-eight hours I just figured...”

Derek’s chuckle cuts Stiles’ rambling short, it’s not exactly a happy chuckle but Stiles doesn’t have the brain capacity to examine any reasons at the moment, “Uncle...is fine.” It feels like a for now should be added to the end of that, but again –Stiles can’t and won’t think about it. Instead he kicks Derek in the thigh again and grins, 

“Good. So...can you be an awesome bro and order some food because some of us aren’t robots or werewolves who can sustain ourselves off of muscle fat.”

Derek frowned, “Werewolves can’t-“

“AH-TA-TA-BHJ, hush. Pizza. You were going to get pizza.”

“How about I one-up that pizza?”

Stiles nods but watches him warily was Derek gets up off of the couch and walks into the kitchen. They had built it on the other side of the brick wall, or as Stiles had dubbed it Yellow Brick Hole –not that the brick was yellow and the only person to even snicker at it had been Peter, everyone else had rolled their eyes. A fully functional kitchen, which no one really used except to eat and store take out, so seeing Derek pull real food out of the fridge and pots from the cupboards...it threw Stiles through a loop. 

He moved closer as the smell started to filter around the loft, and damn it smelt good. Robo-Baby tucked into the crook of his right arm, he leaned against the counter and tapped on it lightly with his left hand, and watched Derek cook. 

Turning the heat down on the stove Derek turned to Stiles and blinked, like he hadn’t realised that the teenager had moved, but quickly recovered, “How spicy do you like your sauce?”

“Very, but not insanely...I like my taste buds, we’re kind of attached.”

Derek snorts and turns back to the stove adding things and stirring, what Stiles assumes is the sauce, every once and a while. He watches it all happen with a slightly detached fascination. The weight of the doll in his arms, the quaint kitchen, Derek cooking for him –for them. It’s terribly domestic and white-picket-fence, all they’re missing is the little lap dog maybe a shih tzu and maybe another small child running around and clinging to Derek’s leg while he tries to walk around the room and-

“Aww what is that amazing smell?”

Stiles blinks, readjusts the doll in his arms, and turns slightly as Scott and Co come in through the door. Peter trouncing down the stairs as they do, all of them converging in the doorway. Scott blinks, “Derek, dude, are you cooking?”

“Don’t call me dude, again, and yes.” He clicks off the other burners and carries the pot of steaming water over to the sink, as he drains it Stiles notes that it’s spaghetti. Derek is-nope, squishing those thoughts, “I figured why not, instead of ordering out.”

Scott looks between Stiles and Derek a few times before shrugging, “Whatever. Dude, let me hold my fake nephew.”

Stiles chuckles, ignoring the low growl from his right, and hands the doll over to Scott, “Watch it’s head, dude, I’ll lose points if you let it go back to far.”

“How many times have you broken its neck already?” Isaac asked as he took his seat at the table.

“Three.” Stiles stated, rather proudly, which got a laugh from the group –minus Derek, “I’m going to be a horrible parent in my future.”

“Nah man, I’m sure a really baby is harder to break than a-“

“Robotic one that’s built to withstand anything a modern day teenager in the throes of boredom can dish out?”

Isaac snorted, “You’re so screwed.”

“Not if I don’t have children.” He said it, but he didn’t sound convincing, but at least the werewolves didn’t call him out on it.

Kira slid up to Scott’s side and cooed at it, they were going to make cute babies someday, “What did you name it? I heard that’s like two bonus points on top of your finale grade.”

Stiles grinned, “Alex J. Murphy, Jr.”

Kira laughed, “Excellent.”

Scott blinked, “What’s so excellent?”

Stiles sighed, his best friend was a lost caused. Kira, at least, looked as scandalized as Stiles felt, “After Alex J. Murphy.”

Scott shook his head, Kira sighed, “Robo-Cop?” When Scott still showed no sign of knowing what she was talking about, Kira took the doll from him, “You’ve lost the rights to hold Robo-Baby.”

Stiles chuckled, blinking when Derek held a plate of spaghetti and sauce out for him, “Thanks.” He took it and sat down, ignoring the looks from Lydia and Peter and maybe Isaac too as he did so. 

Derek walked over and took the doll from Kira, “Eat while it’s hot.”

“What about you?” Stiles asked around a mouthful of noodles. Delicious noodles. With sauce straight from sauce heaven. God he needed to find reasons to make Derek cook more. The werewolf shook his head,

“I’ll eat in a little bit.” With that he walked into the living room. Stiles shrugged and went back to eating.

“Um, if no one else is going to address the situation then I will.” 

Stiles, everyone mostly, stopped eating and looked over at Lydia as she neatly unfolded her napkin over her lap, “Address what situation?”

“The Derek proving that he can provide for you and an offspring, situation. Of course.”

Stiles choked on a string of noodle, even though he should have known better to wait until after she had finished talking to start eating again, from the next room there was a soft thud as something dropped on the floor –and Stiles prayed that it hadn’t been the doll. Everyone else looked in mixed stages of shocked and amused. Stiles cleared his throat, “Derek is not-“

“Oh but he is,” Peter chimed in. Stiles still wasn’t sure if Peter was always agreeing with Lydia in some weird attempt of making up for mentally abusing her in junior year, or not, but it was scary when they teamed up and made logical sense, “ever since you arrived this afternoon and fell asleep on the couch. He’s been postcard-perfect Daddy Derek.”

Stiles shook his head, “You got it all wrong.” 

Lydia set her fork down, “Please elaborate, because from where I’m sitting we have it all right.”

He really hates it when they team up. Stiles sighs, moving a stray noodle around on his plate, very aware that Derek can hear every word they’re saying –even if he’s pretending not to, “Derek...barely tolerates me, alright? I mean yeah we’ve moved past arrest warrants and smashing faces into steering wheels, but our friendship is tentative at best. So he watched my homework while I slept for a half hour, and made food –for all of us, I might add...that doesn’t mean he wants to have little werewolf babies with me. And,” he held up his fork and pointed it at Lydia when she opened her mouth to speak, “I still have four more years of undergrad and three years of grad school, not even counting if I go for my Masters and PhD...I...don’t really see werewolf babies in any foreseeable future.”

“But you do, eventually, want to have his werewolf babies.” Peter, of course, stated matter of fact-ly. Stiles groaned, because yes he wanted to have Derek’s werewolf babies ever sense he woke up on the couch and saw how relaxed, happy, unbound, Derek looked holding the robot doll –but he couldn’t say that. And he couldn’t say no either because he knew they would all pick up on it, would hear the lie in his heart beat,

“You all suck.” Is what he went with instead.

Derek, bless his wolfie soul, didn’t say anything as everyone finished eating and ran the dishwasher and Stiles walked over to take the doll. Stiles shouldered the bag and shifted his weight, hyper aware of the pack watching them. Standing up a little taller he cleared his throat, “Ah...thanks, again, for your help today.”

Derek just nodded, “Anytime...it’s what pack’s for.” 

They both ignored the collective groan from the kitchen, as Stiles strapped the doll back into the car-seat and turned to head towards the door, 

“See you guys later.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

“Bye Robo-Bay-ouch, Kira what was that for?”

“You don’t understand the reference, you don’t get to call it that.”

Stiles chuckled as the door slide closed behind him. He leaned against it for a minute before heading towards his Jeep, and hoped that tomorrow would be an easy day.

\---

Sunday had been an easy day. His dad had been home long enough to make fun of him and roll his eyes at the name, Scott and his unculturedness can suck it –it’s an amazing name, and then left for work with the promise that he’d be back in time for supper. Something about a few more interviews for new officers to replace the ones that the Oni had killed. Seriously, Beacon Hills cops had the worst luck –in the station.

Robo-Baby had been quiet for the better part of the day as well. Stiles managed to shower, watch some television, and get some of his other homework done before it started crying. He went through the check list, even adding the walking in circles around the room like he had seen Derek do the previous day –eventually it stopped before he had to resort to using the key. 

The key.

Stiles eyes widened as he set the doll down in the makeshift crib his sock drawer had become, and dug through the diaper bag. Nothing. He picked up his phone and ran through his contacts, clicking on Derek’s name,

**I don’t suppose I left the key there yesterday?**

It took a few minutes, but eventually his phone buzzed on the bed as he went for round two at looking through the bag –this time dumping everything out,

**If you mean the key for the robot. Yes. Do you need it?**

Stiles rolled his eyes, relieved but also –duh. 

**I don’t need it for the thing right now, but I do need it when I hand it back over tomorrow morning. Can you bring it over? I’m trying to get caught up on other things while it’s quiet.**

He let his phone drop back on the bed and started putting everything back in the bag. Seriously he panicked for nothing, he had probably dropped it on the couch when he fell asleep –after Derek had Robot-Baby-Whispered the thing into silence. Speaking of silence, his phone didn’t buzz again after that. Stiles wasn’t too worried, Derek probably had better things to do then run a plastic key over to the other side of town. Stiles could always drive over and get it after supper anyway, or ask Scott to bring it with him. He was just about to send Derek a ‘never mind’ text when there was a tap at his window.

Stiles looked over and raised his eyebrow. He hated werewolves. “Is this how you avoid using stairs?” He asked as he opened the window and Derek slipped in, “I mean I get it, I hate stairs too...but the neighbours are going to start talking if they keep seeing handsome guys coming in and out of my room via the window.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “Who else is using your window?” If it came out a little more growl-y than even Derek had expected it to, well Stiles wasn’t about to call him out on it.

“Scott and sometimes Isaac, mostly you though –which again, what is it with werewolves and avoiding stairs?”

“We get enough cardio running from hunters,” he shrugged, “stairs are a waste of energy.”

Stiles blinked, “Did you just-was that a-“

“Joke? Yes, I have been known to make them from time to time.”

Stiles chuckled, taking the key that Derek fished out of his jacket pocket, “Whatever, and thanks. Mrs. Greenberg would kill me if I didn’t return all of the pieces...intact.”

Derek just nodded, and was about to leave when it started to cry again. Stiles moved for it, but Derek was quicker and picked it up. He made it stop crying within the minute. Stiles would forever be amazed.

“Finish your homework.” Was all he said as he walked out of the room, still holding Robo-Baby, and walked down the stairs. Stiles tried not to read too much into it as he sat back at his desk to filter through his homework on graph theory.

\---

Finally, it was Monday. And Stiles was still trying not to think about how nice and homey it felt to be sitting around the dinner table with his dad, and Derek, while his dad held the doll like it was a real grandchild. It was more than nice. It had been the absolute best. Derek had even smiled, a little bit, and wow Stiles wished that he did that more often because it was adorable. Just like Derek putting the doll to bed before turning to Stiles and- leaving.

He had just left. Sure he had looked like he wanted to do more before he all but flew out of the window, leaving the Sheriff to tell Stiles to make sure Derek knew he was expected to use the door from now on, but like most things that happened this weekend, Stiles refused to look at it any longer.

Instead he focused on driving to school. On parking. On getting the car-seat out of his Jeep and setting it on Mrs. Greenberg’s desk, where she looked pleasantly surprised to see it all in one piece,

“How hard did you try to break it?”

“Not very.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes and took the doll out of the car-seat, turned it over, and popped it’s back open. She pulled out an SD card and placed it in a small plastic container before writing S. Stilinski on the cover, “You’ll know by this afternoon what your grade is.”

Stiles nodded, “See you last class, then.” He waved, she nodded, as he walked out of the classroom and went about his day.

\---

“I am so glad that is over with.” He sighed as he flopped down on the couch, squishing himself between the arm and Kira, Scott on her other side and flanked by Isaac, as they watched Peter set the T.V. where Derek’s bed used to be. It had only taken minimal convincing to get him to move it upstairs and put in entertainment for the pack. Why Scott’s house hadn’t become “The Den” (also dubbed via Stiles) was because Melissa said no, and only because of her shift work. As official Pack Mom, it was decree even the True Alpha couldn’t disobey. 

Kira scooted a little closer to Scott, to give Stiles a little more room, and wrinkled her nose when he stretched his legs out over top of all three of them, “How did you do, anyway?”

“Seventy-six point nine,” he grinned, “It would have been lower, but apparently for every time you successfully get it to stop crying in under the allotted five minutes, you get a point.”

“So basically you’re saying Daddy Derek saved your grade.”

Stiles flipped Peter off and then folded his arms across his chest, “Yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow, “Since when did Derek get promoted to Dad?”

“Since he started trying to provide for his mate and their child.” Peter was so chill about it, it made Stiles want to punch him in the throat. Twice.

“Oh my god, there is no mates, no providing, no...” He trailed off with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face, “Just hurry up and get the DVD player working so we can watch RoboCop.”

“I wouldn’t say that, right Derek?” Peter hummed as he turned the machine on and tossed the remote at Scott –who caught it with an ease that he wouldn’t have had pre-werewolf. Stiles looked over his shoulder and saw Derek walking in the loft, a little under the weather and glaring at Peter. He ignored them all, even as the rest of the pack said hello, and took the stairs three at a time. Peter sighed, “He’s been like that since he came back last night.”

Scott blinked, “Where did he go last night?”

“To-“

“I asked him if I’d left the key here and he brought it over...he might have ended staying for dinner with my dad and oh my god...”

“What? Did something happen, did your dad threaten to shoot him?”

Stiles shook his head, hands rubbing his face, “He’s upset that...” Okay, he could do this. Stiles took a deep breath and got off of the couch, heading for the stairs, “You guys can start the movie without me.” Which was his way of saying, I don’t want to listening to this. Scott, the forever a puppy, still looked lost and confused,

“I don’t...is this about the robot?”

Peter sighed, like it pained him that Scott was the Alpha, “It’s a little more than that.”

Stiles didn’t stick around to listen to Peter explain the in’s and out’s of werewolf mating habits to Scott, he didn’t really want to know much himself –but he had read up on some aspects and a lot of things that he didn’t want to think about over the weekend, well he was suddenly thinking about all of them. More so the conversation around the dinner table on Saturday. 

How badly, no, how easily he felt like he could do it every day –with Derek. The sharing the same space, having a kid or two. It terrified him and excited him all at the same time.  
Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and walked down the short hall, and knocked on the closed door. There was a ruffling, like the sound of sheets being pushed back, before the door opened. 

“Can I...come in?”

Derek didn’t say anything, just stepped back and sat on the edge of his bed. Stiles walked in and closed the door, leaning against it for support, he took a deep breath, “So...are you really that upset over it?”

Derek held his head in his hands, Stiles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Derek look so defeated –and that’s including everything they’d gone through in the last two and a half years, “I don’t know what came over me. I-I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinked, if it hadn’t been for the door holding most of his weight he’s sure he would have fallen over, “Wha-what do you mean, you’re sorry? For what?”

“For...” Derek waved an arm, as though he was trying to pull something out of the air, “Everything.”

Stiles snorted and finally managed to push himself off of the door and walk over, “Pretty sure you don’t get to apologise for everything that’s happened. Scott, Isaac, Kira’s mom, Peter...especially Peter, owe me at least three sorrys as well.”

Derek shook his head, shifting slightly when he felt the bed dip as Stiles sat down next to him, “I meant about this weekend.”

“Nah, I get it,” Stiles leaned back, elbows propping him up as he watched the lines in Derek’s back tighten, “You were overcome by some wolfy instinct to, what...provide and protect? Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you wouldn’t let Peter near it, and growled when Scott took it.” He chewed on his bottom lip, “If you...can’t share your fake puppies with the pack...we’re going to run into difficulties when the real ones come along.”

Derek’s head snapped up and Stiles had to hold in the laugh, because it was almost cartoonish in nature, the speed and motion that Derek moved and his expressions shifted before he smoothed his face into the impassive, unimpressed, scowl that he seemed to always wear. It was wonderful. Stiles needed to make him emote more. 

“Do you really mean it?” Derek cleared his throat, “I mean, I heard you talking about school and-“

“Der,” Stiles sat up, hands cupping Derek’s face, with a smile on his lips, “I’ll only be twenty-eight by the time I’m completely finished with school. You’ll only be thirty-four. We’ll be way better off by then to have one or two kids.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, “One or two, huh?”

“Well yeah, since it’s genetically impossible for me to physically give birth we’ll have to find someone to do it for us...I figure two so one’s as photoshopingly handsome and werewolfie as you and the other is nerdtasitc and all limb and squishy human like me.”

“I like the sounds of that, but just so you know...I’m vetoing all Star Wars, Star Trek –actually any sci-fi show name right now.”

Stiles pouted, “On second thought, I don’t think this is going to work-out!” He squeaked and laughed as Derek pushed him down and shut him up with a kiss.

Because apparently he could do that now.

\---

**_Eight years and two months later_ **

 

Whatever Stiles had said about waiting until he had been a hundred percent done with school, had been a lie. A lie that he was glad for. Sometimes. Most of the time. Just not right now when he was trying to get the last thousand words of his dissertation done –because he had compromised with himself and told himself that he would be able to do it from home.

The shriek came, followed by the sound of four feet stampeding down the hallway. He counted down from ten before the door to his office burst open,

“DADDY!”

Stiles sighed and clicked the save button, before turning around in his chair, “Yes, Claudia?”

The little girl, who had all of the Hale features and probably a spitting image of her late grandmother –had he ever seen a photo of her, though Peter had said that she reminded him a lot of Talia, sniffled, “O-Oliver hit me.”

Stiles let out a low groan and looked over at the little boy, who was identical to little!Stiles, and also named after Derek’s father, “Oliver, why did you hit your sister?”

“Because.” He folded his arms. 

“Because, why.”

“...she wolfed on me.”

“We were playing Hunters and Werewolves. It was part of the game. Duh.”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. Having them a year apart will be good, they said. They’ll get along better, they said. Claudia will learn how to control her strength and not hurt her brother, Peter had said. Lies. 

“What have I told you about playing Hunters and Werewolves?”

“To tell Dad that we’re actually playing Cops and Robbers but the Robbers are supernatural creatures of the night and the Cops have special bullets that can take them down?” Both children supplied with shit eating grins.

“Smartasses...” Stiles muttered under his breath, Claudia of course heard it and gasped,

“DAD! DADDY SWORE!”

“Only because you ratted me out.” Stiles grinned and picked her up, upside down, and started tickling her. She squealed and laughed as they walked out of the room, Oliver close on their heels. 

Down the hall of the renovated Hale House –it had been a baby shower gift from Scott and the rest of the pack, Stiles could hear Derek chuckling and moving around. Oliver ran ahead and grappled onto Derek’s leg, sitting on his foot as his dad walked towards them. Stiles pulled Claudia up, so she didn’t get a head rush, and smiled sheepishly,

“I figured out what they were playing a long time ago, you’re not that clever.”

Stiles hummed, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“Subtle change in topic, but what?”

Stiles chuckled, “After Scott and Kira’s baby is born...we should have another one.”

Claudia put her hands on Stiles’ face and looked at him with all the seriousness of a four and a half year old, “I get a sister?”

Oliver made a noise of disinterest and disgruntlement, “No way. I get a brother this time.”

“This time? You’re only a year older than your sister.”

Derek laughed, “I guess we’ll just have to have two more.”

Stiles smiled, “I guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Sarah for this because all of these ideas are always her fault and I just run away with them. I also needed something to get me out of my rut for me bigger fic that's...taken me an embarrassing amount of time to finish. Soon.
> 
> Also the scenarios that Stiles mentions? About the breaking babies? Personal experience (aka people I know) from when I did this in Jr. High. Case of the broken arm: A friend of mine got her mom to watch it while she took a shower, came out and the arm just fell off. Case of the missing head: A couple of the guys had taken them for walks, baby fell out of the stroller and the head just kind of rolled down the sidewalk. -kind of proud to say that I myself got an 80% on the stupid "Baby, Take It Home" project.


End file.
